Susan Andersen - Hot & Bothered

A moment later he seated her in the chair facing his desk, then circled it to take his own. “Can I have Mary bring you anything? Some iced tea, maybe? Something stronger?” He wasn’t exactly accustomed to summoning servants, but he’d been the housekeeper’s golden boy since he’d questioned her and the rest of the help yesterday, so what the hell. Might as well take advantage. No one understood better that he was likely to drop out of favor just as quickly as he’d come into it.

Victoria merely shook her head, however.

“She agrees with you, by the way.”

She blinked at him. “Mary does? About what?”

“Jared’s innocence.”

That got her attention and John saw with satisfaction a spark of anger igniting in her eyes. He considered that a big improvement over the defeat that had dulled them.

She straightened in her chair. “You questioned Mary?”

“Yes, ma’am. And the cook and the two girls who come in once a week to clean, as well. Oh, and the gardener.” He gave her a smile he knew would aggravate the hell out of her. “And except for the gardener, who’s still hacked off at Jared for running over his dahlias with the car, they all agree the kid couldn’t have killed your father. Swore that he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I told you that!”

“Yes, you did. But I take nothing on faith and no one’s word is good enough for me. I’m not satisfied I’m even getting in the vicinity of the truth, in fact, until I’ve double—and preferably triple or quadruple—checked every statement I take, every assertion I hear. That, darlin’, is what you’re paying me for.”

“To be a cynic?”

“Damn straight. You want someone to hold your hand, agreeing with every word you speak and ‘poor-babying’ you about your murdered dad and missing brother, go talk to one of your country-club boys. You want Jared found, you got me. And that means poking my nose in every corner of his life, finding out things the help might know, discovering the stuff he’d never in a million years confide in his sister.”

He waited for her to ask what kind of stuff, but instead she straightened in her seat and eyed him with speculative consideration. “The police aren’t going to look any further than Jared, are they?”

“Not if the conversation I had with Detective Simpson was any indication.” Anger burned in his gut all over again at the thought of the cop’s incompetence. It wasn’t something he was accustomed to running into with most law-enforcement personnel.

“Then I’d like to expand your job.”

He stared at her. “In what way?”

“I don’t understand the detective’s attitude, given that there are literally dozens of people who might have wanted my father dead. So you look into them. Heck, I can give you ten names off the top of my head just to get you started.”

“That’s probably not a great way to spend your money. It’s likely to cost you a fortune and still not net you the results you’re looking for.”

“I don’t care about the money. The police aren’t doing their job, so I want you to do it for them.”

“You do understand, don’t you, that I have no authority to compel anyone to answer my questions? If people don’t want to talk to me there’s not a helluva lot I can do to make them. It’s why private detectives rarely get involved in murder cases. We have neither the jurisdiction nor the contacts the cops do.”

She met his eyes and her lips curled up in a faint smile. “Yet you’ll do it anyway, won’t you?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “If that’s what you want. What the hell, I enjoy a good challenge.” Leaning back in his chair, he studied her. “It’s your money, of course, but if you don’t want to find all your resources going into my pockets, you might consider acting as my entree to the folks in your world. I’m not exactly the country-club type.”

She considered him for a moment. “No, you aren’t. Does it really matter?”

“Only in that water-finding-its-own-level kind of way. Chances are better than decent that without an introduction from you, most of that crowd will be leery about talking to me.” Or, more likely, flat-out refuse.

“All right.”

“All right they’ll be leery or all right you’ll—”

“I’ll perform the introductions.”

“Don’t agree without giving it some thought,” he warned. “It could turn out to be time-consuming.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care how time-consuming it is.” She rose to her feet and looked down at him. “If that’s what it takes to clear Jared and get on with our lives, then that’s what I’ll do. Just let me know what you need.”

He thought about that as he watched her walk from the office—about letting her know what he needed. Oh, Mama. Then he thought about getting on with his life, and a less-than-amused laugh escaped him. Shit. He would’ve been all over that concept two days ago. Now he found himself with a daughter he hadn’t known existed and didn’t have a clue what to do with. Not to mention a persistent lech for a woman who only wanted him to untangle her brother’s problem, then disappear. Get on with his life…His ass!

He didn’t even know what the hell that meant anymore.

JARED STOOD OUTSIDE THE SPOT, silently reciting a variation of the pep talk his baseball coach always gave the team before a game. He’d heard about the drop-in recreational center when he’d eavesdropped on a conversation between a couple of kids hustling for change on the 16th Street Mall. His ears had perked up when he’d heard one of them claim it was possible to hang out there from five in the evening until ten. The prospect of having a solid five hours before he had to move on made him feel almost giddy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a solid block of time to simply sit in one place, never mind sleep. He didn’t even care about the activities the rec center might offer. All he wanted was somewhere he could stay put for a while. It seemed like every time he got halfway comfortable, he had to pick up and move.

He stood to the side of the door for several minutes and watched some Hispanic guys horse around inside the center. Then, drawing a deep breath, he took a step toward the opening.

“You don’t wanna go in there,” a husky voice said from behind him and Jared jerked to a stop, looking over his shoulder. A kid, so slight of build he looked as if a stiff breeze might blow him away, detached himself from the shadows cast by the side of the building. Thrusting his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans, he jerked his pointed chin toward the group of boys inside the rec hall. “That’s one of the local gangs,” he told Jared. “They have a tendency to run off anyone not one of their homeboys.”

“Shit.” Disappointment was a massive stone around his neck. God, he was tired. He was so freaking tired and he just wished he could go home.

Tears burned behind his eyelids, prickled his nasal passage and he turned his back so the kid with the funny, raspy voice wouldn’t catch sight of them and think he was a damn baby. “Thanks for the heads-up,” he said gruffly. Blowing out a weary breath, he trudged away from the place that for one brief, shining moment he’d believed might actually provide a few hours of sanctuary.

“Hey, wait up!” The kid caught up and gave him a friendly nudge. “What’s your name? I seen you around, here and there. I’m P.J.” He dug a grimy hand into his pocket and pulled out a candy bar. “You want half?”

Jared surreptitiously knuckled away a couple of tears that managed to leak past his guard. Glancing at the kid from the corner of his eye, he saw him studiously looking the other way and thought maybe he wasn’t the only one who succumbed to the occasional overwhelming bout of helplessness. For some reason, the realization made a difference, and after a swipe of his nose with his shirttail, he squared his shoulders. “Yeah. Sure.” He was careful when he reached out to accept the portion of candy bar P.J. offered, because what he really wanted to do was snatch it out of the little guy’s hand. He couldn’t quite remember when he’d last eaten. He’d killed off the brandy last night, but hadn’t had any solid food since long before then. Resisting the urge to stuff the entire candy bar in his mouth, he took a small bite. “Thanks.”